The Distant Wound

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2026-08-23 02:09:34 -

The Distant Wound

The fog in the Iron Citadel did not smell of rain or damp stone, but of old paper and copper, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of the throat. Warden Elias Thorne stood before the heavy oak door of High Warden Kael’s office, his fingers drumming a rigid, impatient rhythm against the iron stylus tucked into his belt. He was thirty years old, a man carved from the same hard,...

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